Colors and Mysterious Texts
by CompassionAndCaring
Summary: Colors on a canvas intertwine with one another, swirling together like pieces of a soul. The same thing happens here, in Carver Museum, with two men who only thought each other as friends. But fate, and their brothers, have something else in mind.


**This is my first ever time writing Sastiel, so I hope it's okay! I'd like to say thank you to my lovely beta Brook N. Promise, you guys should also check out her fics! She's excellent. **

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One of Castiel Sawyer's favorite paintings in the museum is _Misty Mood_ by Leonid Afremov, without any doubt in the man's mind. The colors awe him and while it appears almost whimsical and otherworldly: with a slip of a hand, it looks like you could walk right in. So many oil paints decorate the canvas, mixing and sitting against one another like old friends.

Rainbow-esque leaves decorate the beginnings of the scene, looking like splashes of ink against the water-like blues. In the middle of the canvas, a sienna and mahogany brown walkway curves to the right, where a couple is walking, one holding an umbrella and the other draped over an arm. There's so much more the art department employee could tell you about this one piece, what else it shows or what it could mean, if anything, but he decides to keep it to himself for now. Beauty has no form, but this piece could define that line and change it.

Giving one last, adoring glance at the painting, Castiel turns around. People mill about, oohing and ahhing or sometimes touching things they're not supposed to. But while it's part of his job, the bed-headed man couldn't bear to scold someone for just being curious. It just didn't seem right. What harm could a little poke or prod do?

The sounds of feet smacking against the carpet floors, conversation, and other sounds typically heard in a heavily occupied building fill the man's ears. Oil paints and dust fill Castiel's nostrils, and he pushes back a sneeze, face scrunching and his eyes closing shut, the only thing he can feel at the moment is the weight of his glasses against his face. Once the itching feeling goes away, he heads out, silently moving past swarms of bodies and making awkward apologies every so often.

What he's heading for, is the lore department of the museum. Filled with myths, fables, and the like about supernatural creatures and possible explanations of extraordinary things, it's one of the most popular departments. Most of it is focused on local tales, but it does have a worldwide diversity. Monsters like kappas, chupacabras, kraken, and dragons; to humanoids like mermaids, fairies, and harpies are some of the few you can learn about.

Finally getting there, Castiel is greeted by the scent of dust, book pages, and musk. High walls curve up into a large dome of glass, letting sunlight and the azure sky be seen. While natural light may seem to help, the area is always immensely dark, and requires lots of lighting, usually fashioned in Victorian-style décor, or lamps along certain tables.

Bookshelves made from chestnut wood line the back, crammed with old tomes or notebooks found by others. People are free to look inside, so long as they are careful. The staff here, is pretty lenient and is always excited to show people knowledge. An ancient yet mysterious air holds to the area.

It's beautiful, to say the least.

Looking around through the small groups of people standing about; staring at the models of cryptids or reading their descriptions, blue eyes of ethereal flame spot a familiar length of chestnut-colored hair, that curls slightly at the ends, brushing against the beginnings of broad shoulders. Walking towards his companion, Castiel takes a breath, hoping not to disturb anyone or look anymore unprofessional than he can be at times.

"Hello, Sam," the art department employee churns out, voice an octave lower from disuse, making it sound deeper and more gravelly. Thankfully, Sam was alone, looking through books and sorting them by subject and/or author. Carver Museum received new books bi-weekly, it seemed, so there was never any drought, per say, of fresh literature. Both a blessing and a curse.

Wearing a taupe-colored suit jacket, matching pants, shoes, and a desert-tan sweater with a crisp white shirt beneath, Castiel's friend looks both kind and worthy of being here, almost like he owns the place. But, of course, he doesn't. Besides, Castiel likes to think Sam would most likely give someone else the more business-y position, much rather choosing to help others that are confused or interested in something. Working here for about three years, the man fit in like a puzzle piece, looking natural in this type of environment.

Sam turned around, and smiled brightly when he saw Castiel; dimples showing, "Hey, Cas. You ready?" Every lunch break, which was from noon to one-thirty in the afternoon, the pair would head to Castiel's brother, Gabriel's, cafe and bakery. Which...was named _Orgasmic Delights_. Yes, that was the name. Castiel had no part in his brother's culinary pursuits and odd sense of humor.

Returning the gesture and nodding, they find their way through the museum, Sam's immense height making it easier to follow behind. Outside welcomes them, the chill fall breeze wrapping itself around the two men. Leaves of burnt orange, gold, and fiery red weave through the air, scratching against the stone below. Trees begin to look bare, with only a few specks of color left behind, the rest piled beneath them like presents under a Christmas tree.

Puffy white clouds bounce against the blue backdrop of a sky, and the sun is weak but shining as always. Regardless, it's a gorgeous fall day. The museum now several feet behind them, it looks enormous, the rolling hills and woods behind it. It's a spacious building with windows every few feet; it seems more of an observatory rather than a museum.

"So, Cas. I'm thinking about getting Dean something for his car...I mean, I know Christmas is a few months away, but I just want to get a head start. What do you think?" Sam asks as they walk through the streets, heading into the center of town. Looking down the con of their five inch height difference, hazel eyes lock onto blue ones, curiosity and something else, the only things inside those orbs of color.

"I doubt Dean would like you to add anything too stunning to his…Baby." Castiel reminded Sam, knowing that the older Winchester's pride and joy was not something to be carelessly tampered with. Or at least, that's what Dean had told him before.

Meeting only two months after knowing Sam, Castiel and Dean got along rather well, the blunt and slightly awkward manner of the art department employee, mingling well with the mechanic's often sarcastic and reference-filled humor. Besides, it would be nice to get to know the man that was interested in his older brother. By that, Castiel meant Gabriel and Dean. The cafe-owner loved to tease the mechanic, and vice versa. It worked well.

A huff of laughter pulled Castiel out of his thoughts. Suddenly, they were walking along the main sidewalk of the town, passing shops and bustles of people, the noise was both obnoxious and comforting. Striking yellows, vivid oranges, watery blues, and other colors of clothing passed by, without anything more. The smell of exhaust and food blasted through the air, and it was unsettling compared to the clean, albeit dustiness of the museum.

"Yeah, you're right. Guess I should have thought of something better than that. I've got till Christmas anyways, huh?"

Nodding, Castiel hoped he was contributing enough to the conversation. One-sided things weren't something he enjoyed. A few minutes passed by, just the two walking through the town in a companionable silence, only the noise around them to play the soundtrack of their stroll.

"I hope my brother doesn't lace our drinks with alcohol again," Castiel thought aloud. Tasting rum in his green tea yesterday was not the most pleasant experience. While it tasted decent, in his opinion, the last thing he'd ever want would be to hinder his employment at Carver. Being slightly intoxicated would not help that in the least.

Besides, Castiel always felt a bit guilty whenever alcohol entered his system, as his and Sam's friend, Chuck, was a recovering alcoholic. Nervous and quaky, but kind, Chuck also worked in the lore department, doing records and such. In his part time, Chuck was a writer, and had a small fan base of his own.

The sudden burst of sound coming from Sam snapped Cas out of his wandering thoughts. Booming laughter filled the air next to him, and the art employee couldn't help but smile at the sound. It was warm, like late-springtime sun and cinnamon. The gentle giant of a man had a laugh that mounted up to his size, and it was nice, to say the least.

The laughter died down, as they finally stopped in front of Gabriel's shop, the place already busy with activity. "Yeah, I hope not. But, I have to admit, that coffee with brandy he gave me wasn't too bad."

A bell, hung in front of the door, rang with a slight _ding_, a mix of the metal vibrations and a feathery ringing being its voice. Some customers looked back to see who entered, but quickly turned back to their own business, whether it be typing something on a laptop or calling someone on their phone. The scent of sickly-sweet pastries and dark, earthy coffee waft through the air. It was warm inside, a comfortable heat that you could bundle in a sweater and still feel nice in.

Small, warm-brown, wooden tables lined the sides of the cafe, with lovingly worn stools on opposite sides, napkins and other supplies stood in the middle of the table. Gentle lighting stood above, making the people inside glow like angels and stars in the most beautiful ways possible.

A counter made from black walnut wood stood in front of the pair, where a few chalkboards listed the types of foods and drinks available. Dark-cream colored walls were adorned with paintings and pictures Castiel had taken or made himself, which still made the bed-headed man blush. Indie music and occasional rock was played inside, making the place seem like a home.

It seemed almost magical and otherworldly. But that was just the quality Gabriel had.

Said man had seen them walking to the counter, goldenrod eyes flickering with mischief, "Hey, Samsquatch! Hey, bro! Usuals for you guys? No alcohol this time, I promise," he added with a theatrical hand on his heart.

The pair nodded in unison, earning a wider smile from the shorter man working on their drinks already. "Yeah, thanks, Gabriel." Sam replied, and Castiel said the same.

"Anything for my two favorite customers! Besides, your brother of course, Sam. Hey, where is he anyways? I haven't seen him since…"

"The other day?" Cas inquired, brow furrowing in mild confusion. Sam laughed next to him, knowing how Dean seemed to be...well, both equally annoyed and interested in the shorter and snarkier man.

"Still. I hope I get to at least seem him today. Made him a pie and everything," Gabriel sulked while moving gracefully around the drinks. The baker/barista's way of flirting was a combination of a rather risque sense of humor, and presenting edible gifts. Quick to put others in shock, people of any gender could be both allured or disgusted by it. Dean is both of those people. The older Winchester liked to think of himself as a casanova or Tony Stark type, and liked to take the reins.

Castiel's face returned to its usual neutral expression, and he nodded in understanding, "I'm sure he'll come around today, Gabriel. It's hard not to." Goldenrod eyes lightened with happiness, and so did the features around them.

Placing Cas' green tea and Sam's latte on the counter, Gabriel chimed, "Drinks for Bigfoot and Mr. Roboto!" Even though the pair was right in front of him, being the only two in line. Some people turned their heads to see who was called, and while some smiled at the owner's antics, others just shrugged and went back to their own business.

The two paid for their drinks, and nodded their thanks, both acquiring a blush from the "nicknames" so call it. Then, they sauntered off to their usual table, one in the far right corner, in front of the window, which showed a mildly picture-esque view of town.

Even sitting down, Sam was a lot taller than Castiel, which was both unnerving and expected. Sunlight beamed through the window, shining on Sam's hair, making it look like golden chocolate, something rare and unbelievably pleasant to gaze upon. Hazel eyes were pools of jade, copper, and flecks of grey. Butterflies fluttered through the inside of Castiel's stomach, their iridescent wings brushing against the sides. He pushed it down, not wanting any of that now. Too early.

But a calming sense of relief flooded over Castiel as he finally sat down on the stool, feeling the cushion beneath. It did feel wonderful to be away from work, as much as he loved it. Sometimes it was just nice to have a drink with a friend and talk about nothing and everything.

And that's exactly what he was doing now.


End file.
